Second Chance
by Allied Hero
Summary: They say that magic is passed on through the genes, though the lineage has to start somewhere. And he is born of magic, after all. Series re-write beginning from 3x02.
1. The Scream

_A/N: This story is a result of a plot bunny that wouldn__'__t leave me alone. After kicking the inside of my head all week, I finally let it out and this is what it gave me in return. A series rewrite beginning with 3x02, sticking pretty close to canon initially before becoming progressively more of an AU. Enjoy!_

_(This chapter is based on The Tears of Uther Pendragon Pt. 2 and includes dialogue from the episode)_

* * *

Merlin woke with a start, the incessant scream of the mandrake root having interrupted his rest. Through half focused eyes, he took in his surroundings. He lay on a ledge that appeared to be in the middle of a large, mountainous area. Clouds hung low over the rocky landscape which seemed to reach high into the sky. Suddenly, he remembered.

Morgause.

Morgana.

The Serkets.

He looked up at Kilgharrah incredulously. "You shouldn't have let me sleep."

"I had no choice, young warlock," the dragon replied, giving him an apologetic look. "The venom was too strong, even for your great powers."

Merlin scrambled to his feet. "I don't have time! I need to get back to Camelot. The kingdom is in danger and…" he trailed off, guilt evident on his face. "…it's my fault. I should have listened to you. I should never have trusted Morgana."

"You did what you felt was right and that shows great courage," Kilgharrah replied reassuringly. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before continuing. "There is… a way in which you may be able to avoid the future to come should you continue down this path."

"How?" Merlin's eyes widened at the revelation. "Whatever it is, I'll do it. As long as I can protect Arthur."

Kilgharrah sighed and shook his head. "I must warn you, Merlin. Though choosing to pursue this alternate path will prevent certain events from coming to pass, it is but one path of many. Arthur's safety is not guaranteed, nor does it undo the results of your choices thus far."

"Tell me what I have to do," Merlin prompted.

"Very well." The dragon knew there was little point in arguing once the warlock had made up his mind. "You must journey to the Isle of the Blessed and make your way to the heart of the island itself. It is there that the key to an alternate path lies."

Merlin seemed lost in thought for a moment. "I need to get there as soon as possible."

"You're not yet fully recovered," Kilgharrah reminded him, "and it's more than five days' walk there and back to Camelot."

A mischievous smile crept onto Merlin's face as he glanced back up at his friend. "I've no intention of walking."

* * *

Minutes later, the warlock found himself soaring through the air. Merlin whooped with joy as the dragon swayed left and right, the Isle of the Blessed quickly coming into view through a thin layer of cloud. Before he knew it, they'd touched down in a clearing by the lake leading to the island. Merlin slid off the creature's back landing with a _thud_ on the ground.

The moon shone down on the mist surrounding the lake, causing the raggedy pier before him to appear even more eerie than usual. At the end of the pier lay a small boat similar to the one he had journeyed in previously. He slowly began his walk towards the edge of the lake before a booming voice stopped him.

"Merlin?" The warlock turned to face Kilgharrah. "By choosing to do this, you unleash a power intentionally hidden for years at the heart of the Old Religion. Heed my words."

Merlin nodded in understanding, then turned and continued on his way.

The trip across the lake was uneventful at best, Merlin's gaze fixed solely on the dark walls which gradually began to loom over him. It wasn't long before the boat stopped itself in front of a stone archway, and the warlock found himself swiftly making his way up a set of steps to the centre of the isle.

Aside from slightly deteriorating walls, the courtyard looked exactly the same as it had the last time he'd journeyed to the island. Memories of Gaius' lifeless body lying by the stone table as he battled with Nimueh suddenly came flooding back.

_Emrys._

Merlin snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of his name. He looked around wildly but saw no one.

_Emrys._

The warlock slowly started forward, following the voice. Suddenly, the ground began to rumble. Merlin stumbled towards the nearest wall for support, gawking as the stone table in the centre of the courtyard slowly began to move to the side. Almost as soon as it began, the rumbling stopped.

_Emrys._

The voice was louder now. Merlin made his way towards the centre of the courtyard once more, peering warily over the edge of the newly created passage in the ground. A set of stone steps gradually descended into darkness, and the warlock glanced around warily before carefully taking the first few steps into the passage. He held his right hand out.

"_Forbaerne_," he whispered.

At once, a flame appeared in his outstretched hand. The light revealed a long, underground passageway as he reached the bottom of the steps, which appeared to snake around to the right.

_Emrys._

The voice was louder still. Merlin quickened his pace, breaking into a slight jog the further he went. As he rounded the corner, the flame suddenly extinguished as he found himself surrounded by a blue hue of light. His eyes adjusted to reveal a cave-like room, the rocky walls lined with blue gem stones which gave off a soft glow. A pedestal stood in the centre of the room. On top lay a single gem the size of his fist, similar to the others in appearance though glowing noticeably brighter.

Merlin tentatively made his way towards the pedestal. Up close, he could now see the large gem contained a substance of some sort, which swirled around spontaneously. The sight immediately reminded him of the debacle with Cornelius Sigan's soul and he quickly took a step back.

"Emrys."

Merlin whirled around to see a middle aged woman dressed in a long, white gown. Brown hair bounced off her shoulders as she made her way towards the warlock who remained frozen in place.

She let out a small laugh. "You need not be afraid, Emrys. I am Anath, Keeper of the Oris Stone. I have waited down here a long time with the knowledge that our meeting may not even come to pass."

With the woman's reassurance, Merlin seemed to find his voice. "What do you mean by that?"

"I am sure you are aware by now that the path to your destiny is not fixed," she explained. "There are many different ways in which a united Albion and the subsequent return of magic can come about, but it is what happens afterwards which is the key.

"Your current choices do not bode well for Arthur Pendragon. Choosing to unlock the stone's contents is a drastic measure I will admit, but it will give you both a fighting chance of living to see the results of your hard work."

Merlin frowned. "If this is supposed to make things easier, why has it been kept hidden all this time?"

"I did not say anything about things being easy, only that it may aid you," Anath sighed. "This stone was never meant to exist. After the Great Purge, it was decided that such a power could not be wielded by its owner. Rather than destroying it however, it was retrieved and placed in the stone for safekeeping should it be needed in future. This room was intended for your eyes only, Emrys. It is so secret that not even the remaining High Priestesses and their Blood Guard are aware of it."

"Whose power is it?" Merlin asked, surprise evident in his tone.

Anath shook her head. "It is best if you do not know. Your knowledge of the future is what has led you to this moment in the first place," she paused. "You will discover their identity in due time, however."

Merlin nodded, turning to face the stone. "What do I have to do?"

Anath made her way to the other side of the pedestal, motioning for the warlock to come forward. She took his hands and placed them on the stone, covering his with her own.

"Close your eyes and focus on the stone's power," she instructed. After a few moments, she did the same. "_Ábiraþ se ríce hereláf díegol ond edhwierft hit æt tornes ealdhláford carseld!_"

Merlin watched in silence as the light within the stone gradually faded.

"It is done," Anath declared. "You must go. Camelot remains in peril despite what was done tonight. The result of releasing the stone's power will not be evident for some time, but when it is, you will know."

"Thank you," Merlin replied, smiling gratefully.

He turned to leave, but was stopped by Anath's voice once more. "Beware, Emrys. This alternate path is both a blessing and a curse. Choose your actions wisely or it will be your undoing."

_Now she tells me,_ he thought begrudgingly. The warlock nodded before beginning to make his way back through the passage.

* * *

Before he knew it, Merlin was back in Camelot and racing through the halls of the castle. He burst into his chambers, running towards Gaius who appeared to be in a deep sleep.

"You need to wake up!" he hissed, shaking the old man.

The physician just about doubled over at the sight of the warlock. "Merlin! Where have you been?"

"I don't have time to explain," he replied quickly, grabbing Gaius' coat. He considered telling the older man about what had unfolded at the Isle of the Blessed, but immediately decided against it. Gaius would probably start lecturing him about talking to strange women, and in any case, that part of his news wasn't what he'd nearly died for.

"Are you alright—" he gave Merlin a look as the boy failed to help him into the garment.

Merlin ignored him and continued. "Morgana is in league with Morgause, she's plotting against Uther."

"_What?_"

"She's responsible for his visions!" he emphasized. "Come on, hurry up. There's something I need to show you."

Entering the king's chambers a few minutes later, the two men found the room in complete disarray. Decorative objects were strewn all over the floor, smaller objects were knocked off of shelves and Uther was clearly missing from his bed. A soft whimper coming from the adjacent sitting room gave the king's presence away, and Gaius' eyes widened in shock.

"Uther!" he exclaimed, hurrying towards the man. The king gripped Gaius' shoulders with all his might, staring fearfully at the wall behind him.

Despite how terrified he was of the man, Merlin couldn't help but pity Uther in the state he was in. Suddenly, he remembered why they were there in the first place. He dashed towards the king's bed, ripping the mandrake root out from underneath and throwing it in the fireplace with one swift movement. He cringed as the mandrake's cry rang throughout the room signaling an end to the enchantment.

In his chambers a few doors down, the scream woke Arthur from his nightmare.

* * *

_Spells:_

_Merlin: Burn up. (As written in the Merlin wiki)_

_Anath: Take that which remains hidden and return it to its rightful place! (Translated with oldenglishtranslator . co . uk, though chances are it's highly inaccurate)_

_Reviews are life. :-)_


	2. The Nightmare

_A/N: Thank you to all those who reviewed/followed/favourited the first chapter!_

* * *

Arthur's breaths were short and fast as his feet pounded against the stone floor. The castle halls were dark, pitch black almost as he blindly stumbled around a corner at the end of a long hallway. Behind him, a strange light almost ghostly in appearance rounded the same corner and made a beeline for the prince. Wide eyes glanced back momentarily before focusing on the path ahead of him once more. He didn't know where he was running, only that he needed to get away from that _thing_.

The light continued to hunt him down, mocking him, taunting him. 'There is no escape' it seemed to chant manically as he suddenly found himself in front of the armoury. He wasn't sure how he got there, nor did he care. He yanked one of the large doors open, pulling it shut behind him and slamming the lock into place. Arthur slumped down against the door, breathing heavily. He was safe here, he had to be.

_Arthur…_

No. It wasn't possible. He was across the other side of the castle! Light began to filter through the crack between the bottom of the door and the ground and he fumbled his way across to the other side of the room.

_There is no escaping this Arthur, no matter how much you wish otherwise._

"No!" Arthur shouted at the door, his voice wavering. "Leave me alone!"

All at once, the light appeared before him. Arthur backed up against the wall as it hovered dangerously close to his face.

_Hello, Arthur Pendragon._

The light began to expand, inching closer and closer—

"_What_ happened?!"

Arthur gasped at the sound of a third voice, opening bleary eyes to find Merlin gawping at the state of his chambers. The manservant's exclamation was met with a blank face from the prince, who quite frankly couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so horribly. For once he was more than willing to be roused, even if it was done by the same idiot who'd skipped his duties the previous day.

"What happened?" Arthur scoffed. "I've had to make do without a servant, that's what's happened."

The warlock busied himself with clearing the mess. "I wasn't gone for that long."

"Without my permission," the blond retorted.

Merlin finally looked up at his prince instead of the floor. "What if I was dying?"

"I wouldn't be complaining!" Arthur exclaimed. "But you're not, so where've you been?"

"I _was_ dying."

"I don't have time for this," the prince deadpanned. He pulled away the covers, throwing his legs over the side of his bed. "The future of the kingdom rests upon my shoulders. Do you have _any_ idea what that feels like?"

"Well…"

"Merlin, I should have you thrown in the dungeons," Arthur warned. "So what have you got to say for yourself?"

The warlock gave him a sheepish grin. "…you've not have your breakfast this morning, have you?"

_That_ did it. Arthur jumped out of bed, looking around wildly for something to throw. "I'll have _you_ for breakfast!" he declared, setting his sights on a small goblet.

"Oh, no wonder this place is such a mess!" Merlin goaded, effortlessly dodging the flying object. In response, a ceramic jug came hurtling his way which he avoided just as easily. "Ah yes, I can see you've got all the makings of a _great_ king!"

A large book in reply to the manservant's mock bow was what finally sent him scurrying out of the room, and Arthur huffed in satisfaction. That is, until he remembered what had him so riled up in the first place. All through the night he'd had the same recurring nightmare. No matter how many times he woke, not even to that piercing scream, the same images returned to haunt him.

And the scream, that certainly hadn't been a part of any nightmare. It was like nothing he'd ever heard before. It wasn't a disturbance in the citadel, and though the thought amused him, it wasn't Merlin being a girl like usual, so what was it? Enquiring with the guards outside his door had proven to be about as useless as always, with both claiming they hadn't heard a thing all night.

Arthur wondered why the events of that night were bothering him so much. It was just a nightmare, after all. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd had one and it likely wouldn't be the last. As for the scream, he was sure there was a logical explanation. There had to be. Arthur collapsed back onto his bed and let a large sigh escape his lips.

It wasn't easy being prince.

* * *

Any thoughts about his strange night were immediately forgotten the moment he was summoned to the council chamber. A patrol headed by Sir Leon had spotted a mass army marching under Cenred's banner, and judging by the path they were taking, were bound straight for Camelot.

As Leon continued to rattle off statistics – all of which seemed to spell their doom – Arthur's mind was reeling. It was hardly a coincidence that Cenred had chosen to strike the kingdom now given the weak state it was in, but how he'd known in the first place was what concerned the prince. While his father's dwindling health wasn't exactly a secret amongst those within the court, it was hardly public knowledge, and certainly not something Cenred would know. At least, not without inside help.

As though reading the prince's thoughts, Gaius spoke up. "I fear that news of the king's illness has spread beyond our borders. Cenred sees an opportunity."

"Then we must find a way to appease him," Leon pitched in.

Arthur shook his head, finally turning to face the two men. "What would my father do? He wouldn't bow to our enemies."

"Forgive me, sire. We are outnumbered two to one," the physician reasoned.

"What concessions will he insist on?" Arthur asked. "What territories will he demand?"

Now it was Gaius' turn to shake his head. "We do not have to give him anything, but it could buy us valuable time."

"It shows weakness, Gaius." Arthur pushed himself off the column he was leaning on, slowly walking towards his father's seat at the head of the table. Without a word, he sat down and mustered the most commanding facial expression he could. "There is only one course of action open to us; we must prepare the city for siege."

* * *

For the next day and a half, the kingdom was buzzing with action. Guards and knights alike joined forces in order to prepare the castle's defenses, with hundreds of men creating a human chain which snaked from the armoury up to the corridor overlooking the citadel. Sandbags, shields, weapons and anything else deemed suitable were passed up and distributed with the help of passing servants.

By this point his nightmare was long forgotten, and as Arthur wondered through the castle halls, he couldn't help but look on proudly at all the activity despite the circumstances. It seemed almost everyone had stopped their usual daily tasks to lend a helping hand – well, everyone save Merlin. After searching for hours, he'd finally found the idiot gathering enough food for a banquet rather than the impending siege. He'd ended up grabbing his manservant by the collar and dragging him all the way over to Gaius, who assured Arthur he had plenty of work for his ward much to Merlin's dismay.

Before long, the sun had begun to set on Camelot. Word from Leon confirmed Cenred's forces would arrive within the hour, and Arthur soon found himself sitting by his father's bedside. Although Gaius had assured the prince that Uther was no longer enchanted, the king continued to remain in an unconscious-like state which did nothing to lift his spirits.

However long he had been sitting there, it didn't feel long enough as a voice pierced the silence.

"Sire?" Merlin whispered. "It's time."

With one last promise to his father to defend the kingdom with his life, the prince left to join the rest of his men.

Arthur entered the armoury slowly, the chatter amongst his knights dying down as soon as they noticed his presence. As he made his way through the sea of red and grey, he stopped to clasp Leon's arm firmly. His second in command returned the gesture and gave him a confident nod in return. With that, the prince made his way to the other end of the room and turned to face his knights.

He raised his sword high into the air. "For the love of Camelot!"

"For the love of Camelot!" the knights returned with equal vigour.

On Arthur's queue, they filed out into the citadel and began their march towards the edge of the lower town. It wasn't long before they reached the wooden barricades which separated them from the gates to the outlying villages, and the knights took their positions along the cobblestone footpath.

It seemed to happen all at once; a sudden cry from the enemy, a stampede of footsteps and the opening of the gates. Hordes of men clad in black rushed forward and Arthur held his sword high in the air.

"On me!" he shouted.

Time seemed to stand still the moment before the two armies made contact – then all hell broke loose. Sword clashed against sword, armour against armour. The sound of pained cries filled the air as the first men began to fall.

The battle of Camelot had begun.

* * *

Morgana slipped out of her chambers and into the hallway, having managed to avert Gaius just a few moments prior. She inwardly cursed the old man for the delay, but had to admit it hadn't been an entire loss. In following her he'd all but admitted he was aware of her treachery, though now wasn't the time to worry about it. She'd have to deal with him later.

As she began to descend a flight of stairs, half a dozen knights passed her by. She turned away from them slightly, keeping the Rowan Staff firmly pressed against her side until she was sure they were out of sight.

Although the crypt was buried deep beneath the castle, she knew the lower chambers well, and it wasn't long before she'd reached the large stone archway which separated the resting place of the dead from the rest of the hallway.

The room was dark and dank, Morgana seemingly not fazed by the tattered curtains and large cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. Disposing of her cloak by the entranceway, she moved slowly towards the center of the room. A malicious grin spread across her face as she glanced around at the various tombs – the time to turn the battle against the Knights of Camelot had come.

Up on the battlements, Arthur fought with relative ease. A combination of superior defenses and enemy stupidity saw thousands of Cenred's soldiers storming up ladders and hurtling themselves at the knights. Each duel hardly lasted longer than a few seconds before the enemy went tumbling to the ground, only for each man to be replaced by another. As his next opponent reached the top of the ladder, Arthur raised his sword in readiness to strike.

He wasn't prepared for the invisible force that sent him hurtling backwards into a wall.

* * *

_Apologies for the lack of magic-related stuff in this chapter, I promise things will begin to build up from here! As always, reviews are life. :-)_


	3. The Staff

Time seemed to still as Arthur crumpled into a heap on the ground. His head was pounding, his ears were ringing, and blurred vision had him seeing double. At once, another knight rushed to his side and attempted to awkwardly lift the prince into a sitting position.

"_Sorcerer!_" Arthur hissed, cringing as the throbbing seemed to escalate.

Though initially stunned at the prince's sudden airborne trip into the wall, the enemy soldier in question had quickly taken advantage of the situation and had managed to clamber into the castle grounds. The knight's eyes widened in realisation and he hurriedly left the blond's side to deal with the threat.

Arthur attempted to heave himself off the ground. His world seemed to spin as he rose to his feet, staggering several times before finally regaining his footing. The clanging of swords did nothing to help the pain in his head, nor did the sudden feeling of weakness that seemed to overcome him. His sword felt like a dead weight in his hand and he was immediately pulled aside by another knight as he attempted to re-join the fight.

"You must go see Gaius, sire!" he urged.

Arthur glanced desperately from the knight to the battlements, watching as the enemy continued to rush the city walls. He could barely lift his sword let alone continue to fight, and he eventually nodded in defeat. Slowly, he turned and began dragging his feet along the stone ground towards the citadel.

It was on his way down however that Arthur began to notice a change in his energy levels. The weight that had consumed him began to disappear along with the pounding in his head. In fact, by the time he'd reached the citadel, both problems were virtually non-existent. The prince scowled at the lost time and was about to head back up to the battlements when he saw a familiar figure hopping down the steps from a part of the castle he had no business being in.

"Merlin, where the _hell_ have you been?!" Arthur shouted over the chaos.

The warlock started and jogged to catch up to him. "Nowhere!"

"You're starting to make a habit of this," the prince chided. "What's your excuse this time?"

As Merlin reached the blond, he froze, seemingly lost for words.

"Come on _Mer_lin you can do better than that!" Arthur goaded.

Merlin remained silent, pointing in the direction behind his prince as a look of horror appeared on his face. Arthur raised an eyebrow, convinced his manservant was on the cider. That is, until the heavy presence he'd felt on the battlements suddenly returned in full force.

The tip of his sword fell to the ground dragging his arm down with it, and he had a very bad feeling about what it was that had Merlin so riled up. He hesitantly turned around only to come face to face with an army of skeletons.

Instinct kicked in and Arthur forced his protesting limbs to move as the skeletons advanced. As one approached him, for a moment it seemed as though it wasn't going to attack. Suddenly, it swung its sword forward and Arthur quickly dodged the blade.

The fight began, swords clanging relentlessly. Arthur's arms burned as he blocked each of the skeleton's moves, all the while wondering just how long he'd be able to hold out. Finally, he landed a blow straight to the chest – which would have been great if his opponent wasn't already dead. The skeleton shrugged coyly and slammed Arthur's sword out of its ribcage. He staggered backwards, only just recovering his balance in time to dodge another blow.

Arthur backed away, grabbed Merlin's arm and yanked them both away from the centre of the citadel. The two ran as fast as they could, quickly entering the main entrance to the castle and halting half way up a set of stairs. Against the wall of the entranceway, the silhouette of yet another skeleton appeared.

"You need to warn Gaius, tell him to seal off the hospital," Arthur said quickly. Rather than carrying out the order, Merlin stayed put, looking on with concern. When he realised his manservant hadn't moved, Arthur frowned. "Merlin, do as I say!"

The warlock hung around for a moment longer before reluctantly leaving to complete his task.

As soon as he saw Merlin disappear around the corner, Arthur gripped the wooden railing for support as sweat dripped off his brow. The skeleton began to close in, waving its sword around menacingly as Arthur staggered backwards up the remaining stairs. He quickly decided that if he couldn't defeat the skeleton, he'd simply have to keep it away from the hospital. _If_ he lasted that long.

Within the span of ten minutes, his short breaths had been replaced by laboured wheezing as he made his way down an empty corridor of the castle. By now, Arthur was leaning heavily against the stone walls, glancing back every half minute or so to ensure the skeleton was still pursuing him. He was grateful for the fact that the thing only seemed to be able to move at a crawling pace, allowing him to catch his breath every few minutes.

As he rounded another corner, his right foot caught the edge of the stone wall and Arthur was sent sprawling onto the ground. The weight was unbearable, his breathing even more constricted as he attempted to heave himself up once more without success. The skeleton closed in. The last thing Arthur saw as he began to lose consciousness was a sword raised high in the air in readiness for the fatal blow.

But it never came.

His strength suddenly returned, Arthur opened his eyes and abruptly sat up. In front of him, the skeleton had collapsed into a lifeless pile of bones. The prince easily rose to his feet and sheathed his sword, glancing from his hands back to the thing he'd been running – no, more like _crawling_ – away from just moments beforehand. He couldn't work out what had happened; one minute he felt like death itself, the next he felt perfectly normal. In any case, he didn't have time to dwell on the odd occurrence. There was a battle to win.

One last look at the pile of bones and Arthur left to join the rest of his men once more.

* * *

The tide of the battle had turned as soon as the skeleton warriors had been destroyed, and Cenred's forces fled Camelot soon after. Arthur had ventured into the crypt in an effort to work out how the warriors had come about, only to discover Morgana lying unconscious by an odd looking staff. It was clear she had managed to destroy the object which held the enchantment, and after he managed to get the attention of a few knights in the armoury upstairs, they had carried her to her chambers to recover.

Now in his chambers, Arthur sat at his dining table as Gaius attended to a graze on the back of his head. The prince had been pondering the strange events of the siege ever since it had ended – there was one thing he couldn't quite figure out, and the mere thought was making him sick to his stomach.

"Gaius?"

"Yes, sire?" The physician glanced at Arthur momentarily before refocussing his attention on applying a dressing to the prince's forehead.

"I have a question…" Arthur replied hesitantly, "…concerning sorcery."

Gaius seemed to go rigid for a moment. "Go on."

"When magic is used, can you feel it?"

"Sire?"

Arthur sighed, realising his question hadn't made any sense. "I mean, is it possible that when sorcery is used – an enchanted object for example – that those around it can sense a presence of some sort?"

"…it depends, sire," Gaius replied warily. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," the prince replied a little too quickly. Gaius arched his infamous eyebrow at Arthur, who sighed in defeat. "We had sword-wielding skeletons wondering our halls Gaius, the battle was almost lost because of it. I was simply wondering if there was a way to combat the evils of magic should a similar incident occur in future. If we can work out the moment sorcery is being used, there is every chance we can stop it before it can get out of hand."

The physician seemed to scrutinise his answer for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he nodded in satisfaction and Arthur released the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

"In the case of very powerful magic, it is possible that you may sense that something is amiss – a 'funny feeling' as it were," Gaius explained. "Generally speaking however, only those with magic can sense another's spells, which I believe defeats your purpose."

"Of course," Arthur replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It is the laws of nature, sire. I'm afraid you and your knights will simply have to be more observant in future," Gaius said reassuringly. At that moment, he finished applying the dressing and did a quick once over of his handiwork. "If that will be all?"

The prince finally looked up at the older man, managing a smile. "Yes, of course. Thank you, Gaius."

The physician quickly gathered his medical tools and bowed slightly. As soon as he closed the door behind him, Arthur's mind went into overdrive.

"Magic!" he hissed at the empty room. He quickly rose to his feet and began pacing between the dining table and his desk. "_Magic!_" he said louder.

He had known something was amiss during the siege. He had been around sorcery many times before, had even been enchanted himself, yet none of that compared to what he'd experienced that night. It wasn't just a 'funny feeling'; the spell had been gradually draining the life out of him.

Suddenly, Arthur stopped mid pace as another thought occurred to him. "You can't just _have_ magic," he seemed to tell the air. "Father says sorcery must be learned."

He resumed his pacing, continuing to share his thoughts with the empty room. "Okay, so perhaps my reaction was a little more drastic than usual. But I was thrown against a wall for goodness sake, I was already out of it before—"

Arthur cut himself off as everything seemed to click. "That's it! I was already feeling exhausted before the skeletons appeared. That sorcerer must have done something to me when he threw me against the wall up on the battlements. Of course!"

By this point, the prince was grinning from ear to ear, thoroughly convinced his previous fears were unfounded. Relieved, he stopped pacing and threw himself onto his bed, smiling as he tucked his hands behind his head.

"A Pendragon with magic?" He chuckled quietly. "That'd be the day."

* * *

_A/N: Again, thank you to everyone who reviewed/followed/favourited the last chapter! You guys are the best. :-) _

_Next up, Goblin's Gold! Thanks for reading!_


	4. The Goblin

_A/N: Apologies for the delay. To make up for it, here's an extra long chapter! :-)_

* * *

Weeks on from the Battle of Camelot, things were finally getting back to normal. The debris had been cleared, people of the lower town and outlying villages had returned to rebuild their homes, and life within the citadel was thriving.

So naturally, something had to go wrong.

It had all started the previous morning after Arthur returned from a council meeting. He'd entered his chambers only to find Merlin looking for something under his bed in a room that had otherwise been completely trashed. The manservant's excuse included something along the lines of 'spring cleaning' and 'eating off the floor' before he'd managed to scurry off elsewhere.

Just when Arthur thought things couldn't get any stranger, he'd received the shock of his life after his father had failed to turn up to lunch. He'd discovered the king hiding in his chambers – completely bald.

The prince figured a good night's rest ought to take his mind off the bizarre events of that day. Needless to say, he hadn't been asleep for very long before he was abruptly awoken by an intruder. After finally managing to clamber out of his bed canopy, he'd discovered the chest of gold coins he kept under his bed had been stolen.

To top everything off, Arthur found himself with no breakfast and no one to dress him before target practice the next morning when Merlin failed to turn up to work. Again.

Quite frankly, the prince had had enough.

He was on his way to Gaius' chambers to inform Merlin that he was going to be the target that morning when he collided with someone around a corner. The two were sent sprawling backwards, a tiny _smash_ echoing through the hallway.

"Watch where you're—oh, Arthur," Morgana quickly corrected herself. "I apologise, I—"

"There's no need," Arthur cut in, rising to his feet. He extended a hand to Morgana who took it gratefully. "I should be the one apologising."

"You? Apologise?" she scoffed.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Normally I wouldn't seeing as you're one of the most annoying people I know, but…" he glanced down at the smashed vile of liquid on the ground. "You wouldn't have that on you unless you'd had a nightmare last night."

"It's fine, I'm used to it by now," Morgana smiled.

"As the highest ranking lady in the court, you need your rest," the prince reasoned. "I was heading to Gaius' chambers anyway – we could go together and pick up another sleeping draught if you'd like?"

At the mention of the physician's name, Morgana scowled. "I think I'd rather take my chances tonight."

With that, she stormed off towards her own chambers leaving a bewildered Arthur behind.

"Okay, _that_ was weird," he muttered before continuing on his way.

The problem with Gaius' chambers was that they were across the other side of the castle – this meant that it took actual effort to stalk over there and pull Merlin out of bed by the ear. Nevertheless, the satisfaction of berating his manservant was always worth it and Arthur soon found himself in front of the old wooden door to Gaius' chambers. Not bothering to knock, he waltzed inside and immediately spotted the physician by his workbench.

"Gaius, I was—"

"Yes, yes, what _is_ it?" the old man groaned, looking up from an odd-looking liquid. "Honestly, how does anyone expect me to get any work done around here with all these interruptions?"

"Sorry…?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "…anyway, it seems _Mer_lin thought he could skip work this morning seeing as I had to wake and dress myself. Not to mention that I still don't have my breakfast."

Gaius rolled his eyes. "All you nobles are the same, expecting everyone around you to do things a child could do. Why are you bothering me with this sort of thing? Shoo!"

"I don't know why you're being like this Gaius," Arthur frowned. "I was simply asking about Merlin's whereabouts."

"It sounded more like your usual whining to me," the physician smirked.

Arthur's eyebrows shot up before a look of anger overcame his face. "You may be a dear friend to both my father and I, but if you continue to act in this manner then I shall have to choice but to report you to the king."

"Ooooh, two threats in one morning," Gaius said in a sing-song voice. He rose from his chair and shuffled towards Arthur who backed away as the older man invaded his personal space, scrutinising him. "Well, well, well. It would appear more than one person is keeping secrets around here."

"_What_ are you talking about?" Arthur asked quizzically.

Gaius ignored him. "Imagine what your father would say if he discovered his only son possessed the very thing he fears most."

"_What?_" Arthur repeated, eyes wide.

"Can you not feel it, boy? It runs through your veins as we speak!" Gaius said, tapping the prince's hand. When Arthur remained speechless, a devious smile crept onto the physician's face. "You really have no idea, do you?"

Arthur stumbled back slightly, turning towards the door.

"Sire?" Gaius' voice stopped the prince in his tracks. "You'll find Merlin at the market fetching my breakfast."

Arthur stared fearfully at the old man a moment longer before exiting his chambers and letting the door slam shut behind him.

* * *

As the day dragged on, Arthur found little comfort in his thoughts. Ever since his encounter with Gaius that morning, all he could seem to do was come up with theories explaining the physician's strange behaviour, each one more unlikely than the last. The claims had been absurd, not to mention borderline treason. And yet, Arthur couldn't shake the feeling of doubt that had festered itself in the back of his mind.

He'd suppressed the thought, but ever since the Battle of Camelot, he'd felt strange. Different. He'd always put it down to one logical explanation or another, ignored it, hoped the feeling would go away, but it never did. It was only his father's words which convinced him that nothing was wrong.

_You can't just have magic._

In an effort to take his mind off of things, Arthur called a council meeting to discuss the increasing number of thefts around the palace. Everything had been running smoothly until Gwen, Morgana and his father suddenly came down with a bout of farting. The council had been dismissed early, though clearly not soon enough for the trio who looked incredibly perturbed as they fled the room.

Just when Arthur thought his day couldn't get any worse, he was only reminded of his predicament after his father ordered that Merlin be arrested for sorcery. When he'd demanded to know why, Uther had brushed his son off claiming he had all the evidence he needed – which was never good news. Reluctantly, Arthur set off around the castle accompanied by two guards, taking the most complicated route possible in the hopes of avoiding his manservant. Of course, that only meant he ran straight into him.

As a protesting Merlin was dragged into the council chamber, Arthur stood helplessly to the side.

"Is it true?" Uther asked accusingly. "You were responsible for the... afflictions that I and other members of the court have suffered?"

Merlin's eyes went wide. "_What? _No!"

"Gaius?"

On Uther's prompt, the physician retrieved a large book and held it up to the court. "I found this in your room – it's a book of spells and enchantments."

"He's lying!" Merlin exclaimed. "...that's not Gaius."

Arthur's head suddenly shot up. "What are you talking about?"

"He's been possessed by a… goblin," his manservant finished lamely.

"The boy is reduced to making the most desperate and ridiculous accusations," The physician scoffed.

Uther scowled at the warlock. "You seriously expect me to believe that Gaius is a _goblin?_"

"It—it's controlling him," Merlin stammered. "Gaius is still in there… somewhere."

By this point, Arthur's mind was reeling. Gaius possessed? It would certainly explain his odd behaviour, and given what had been insinuated that morning, the prince was willing to believe almost anything. "Do you have any proof of these accusations?"

"…no," Merlin replied reluctantly. Arthur cringed.

"I fear that magic has corrupted you," Gaius lamented. "It pains me more than I can tell you—"

"I really doubt that," Merlin cut in, glaring.

The physician ignored the warlock, turning to face Uther. "My lord, I have been harbouring a sorcerer. For that I offer the most sincere apology."

"You were not to know, Gaius," the king replied. "He's fooled us all."

A bewildered look overcame Merlin's face. "It's not me that's fooling you!"

"Silence!" Uther bellowed. "You've been found guilty of using magic and enchantments and in accordance with our laws you will pay with your life." He glanced at the guards. "Take him away!"

Arthur watched in horror as Merlin was dragged out of the room. He made to speak up but quickly decided against it – he knew that no matter what he said, his father would never listen. No, he needed something else. Evidence. If 'proof' had gotten Merlin into this mess, it was going to get him out of it.

"…this and have it destroyed."

Arthur's thoughts were interrupted by his father's voice. Glancing in the direction of the throne, the king held out the spell book used to incriminate the warlock.

"Of course," the prince mumbled, grasping the book in his hands.

He strode out of the room, glancing left and right once he was away from the scrutiny of his father and Gaius. When he was sure no one was in sight, he backtracked and headed towards his chambers.

If he was going to save Merlin's lazy behind, he had plotting to do.

* * *

That night, Arthur lay on his bed glumly staring up at the red canopy that hung across the four wooden posts. He'd led armies, defended the kingdom on multiple occasions, would one day be king – yet the prince couldn't think of a single plan to clear his scrawny manservant of the charges laid against him.

The fact that he knew almost nothing about goblins wasn't helping, and he couldn't exactly waltz into Gaius' chambers and borrow one of his many books given he apparently _was_ the horrid creature. There were the books in the castle library but the room was likely locked for the night. Not that it would change much, anyway. He had no plan, and in any case, his father had forbidden anyone – _especially _Arthur – from visiting the dungeons.

The only exception to the rule had been Guinevere who had managed to get herself put on prison food duty earlier that evening. She'd informed Arthur that Merlin said he was fine, but that hardly did anything to calm the prince's nerves. Of _course_ the idiot said he was fine, that's exactly the sort of thing he'd say right before his impending doom.

Arthur pushed himself off his bed and stalked over to the window. In the courtyard below, the pyre had already been set up for the execution the next morning. It seemed to stare back at him mockingly, shadows bouncing off the wood as a result of the torches surrounding the castle as though it were giving him a taste of what was to come. Arthur felt the panic begin to rise up in his chest as he desperately clawed for an idea in a brain that seemed to be drawing nothing but blanks.

Then, the warning bell sounded.

For the first time in his life, Arthur found himself relieved to hear the racket as he spotted a faint silhouette darting across the citadel. Multiple torches charged after the figure as it scurried through the city gates and into the upper town. The prince silently bid Merlin good luck as the light too disappeared behind the city walls.

He strode back to his bed and fell heavily onto the mattress. Although one problem was solved, the fact that Gaius was still possessed remained. His father may be too blind to see it, but Arthur wasn't going to let the matter slide so easily. He had already just lost one – dare he say it – friend as a result of the creature.

He wasn't going to stand by idly as he lost another.

* * *

Being turned into a donkey, it seemed, had not been the action plan Arthur had had in mind.

A briefing with his father the next morning saw Gaius – or at least his physical form anyway – yelling about incompetence after Merlin's escape. By this point the prince was positive his manservant had been telling the truth, though given how his father seemed to agree with Gaius' every word, realised he was going to have to prove it himself. He figured confronting the goblin was as good an idea as any.

Hence the donkey ears.

As Arthur stood gawping at his reflection in the mirror, a knock on the door to his chambers startled him.

"I'm busy!" he said desperately. He was shocked however when his words came out as a low bray. It seemed the knocker was just as confused as a familiar voice filtered through the door moments later.

"Arthur?"

_No!_ the prince thought as he scrambled to hide behind the far side of his bed.

"Arthur, it's Guinevere," she continued hesitantly. "…can I come in?"

"Please don't!" he yelled frantically. Gwen only grew more concerned however and she hesitantly stuck her head through the door.

"Arthur?" she tried again. When she got no response, the maidservant carefully made her way through the room until she rounded the side of the bed. She gasped when she finally saw the prince who gave her a defeated look in return. "What's happened to you?"

"I grew a tail," Arthur replied sarcastically, his words once again getting turned into a loud donkey-like wheeze. When Gwen continued to stare at him in shock, the prince saw it as a chance to finally get the events of the previous few days off his chest. "First my belongings get stolen, then Gaius tells me I have magic, _Mer_lin gets himself arrested, I try to prove he was telling the truth and now I'm stuck like this and… confused."

Gwen, having understood none of the prince's rant, immediately cut to the chase. "Did Gaius do this to you?"

"No kidding."

"He's a goblin," she said matter-of-factly.

"I _know!_" Arthur brayed.

Gwen sighed and kneeled down beside him. "You poor thing," she cooed as she began scratching one of his newly acquired ears. The prince seemed to relax for a moment before realising how weird the situation was.

"What are you _doing?_" he wheezed.

"Sorry," Gwen replied, backing away. She stood up and flattened the creases in her dress. "Merlin's working on a plan."

Though Arthur was relieved to hear his manservant was alright, the implication of her statement had him rolling his eyes. "_Great_."

"We'll figure out what to do," she said reassuringly. "…stay here."

"Fine," Arthur muttered. Gwen arched an eyebrow at him then hurried out of the room, the prince sighing as the door closed behind her. "I'm doomed."

* * *

It had taken the better part of that morning, but Arthur eventually felt the donkey ears disappear much to his relief. He'd later found Gwen and Merlin in Gaius' chambers, the physician recovering from being poisoned according to his two friends. As noon set on Camelot, Gaius saw himself well enough to address the court. Merlin was pardoned, the goblin placed in the vaults, and for the first time in days the people of the court were free to go about their usual routines without fear of being enchanted.

Arthur had headed straight for the training field, though not before bumping into Gwen. After an awkward conversation in which the two decided never to mention the events of those few days again, they parted ways both relieved and harrowed. For Gwen, her worries were over. For Arthur, it was only one problem solved of many.

In his chambers later that night, Arthur sat at his dining table tapping the wood impatiently. He knew he should be happy – Merlin was free and the goblin was out of Gaius. Despite this, the prince was more wound up than usual. The events of the previous day had proven to be a much needed distraction from the fear that had been eating away at him, but with nothing else to focus on, Arthur had found himself replaying his conversation with Gaius – or rather, the goblin – over and over again. It was slowly driving him mad and the prince had had enough. He wanted answers and he was going to get them.

A knock at the door startled Arthur from his thoughts and the man in question stuck his head into the room.

"You sent for me, sire?" Gaius asked.

"Indeed," the prince replied. "Come in."

The old man closed the door behind him and warily shuffled his way further into the room. "Is something the matter?"

"Yes…" Arthur hesitated momentarily before pressing on. "I need to ask you something. About the goblin, that is."

"What is it?" Gaius frowned, concerned. "As I told your father earlier, I've no idea who released it. It was just as much of a surprise to me as it was to everyone else."

"Oh, no it's not about that," Arthur corrected him. "It's just… do you remember anything that you said or did while you were possessed?"

The physician shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Merlin has been informing me of the events of the past few days though I fear I'm not aware of every incident. I'm terribly sorry for all that has happened, though you must know it wasn't my doing."

"Of course, you needn't worry Gaius," the prince said reassuringly.

The old man raised his infamous eyebrow. "Forgive me sire, but I struggle to believe that is the only question playing on your mind. I noticed you at training earlier today – you looked rather distracted."

"Quite," Arthur deadpanned. He traced a pattern in the wood with his finger before finally looking back up at Gaius. "Can goblins read people's minds?"

"_What?_"

"Minds, hearts, souls, any of that," the blond elaborated. When the physician continued to stare at him in surprise, Arthur looked at him pleadingly. "I need to know, Gaius," he said quietly. "_Please_."

The old man sighed, focusing on the floor before reluctantly speaking up. "…yes."

"I knew—!"

"_But_," Gaius cut in, locking his gaze with the prince's once more. "You must remember, Arthur – goblins are creatures of mischief. They can take the slightest fact and twist it into something that frightens the victim more than anything else."

"Or they could be telling the whole truth?" Arthur supplied.

Gaius nodded hesitantly. "In some cases, yes."

The prince rubbed his temple as a headache began to set in. While he was relieved in one sense to finally get some answers, the new information only left him more confused. How much was truth and how much was fear? Was it possible the creature merely sensed his suppressed confusion or was there something else there that he dare not think about?

"Sire?" Gaius' voice once again pierced Arthur's thoughts. "Are you alright?"

The prince forced a nod, finally rising from his chair. "Of course. You're free to go – I'm sorry to have troubled you this late at night."

"Not at all," the physician said reassuringly. He made to leave but suddenly paused at the door. "If it's a physical ailment which worries you, rest assured that you are in perfect health."

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle at the irony. "Thank you Gaius, that is a comfort to know."

Realising he wasn't going to get anything further from the prince, Gaius bowed and made his way out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind him however, he paused, listening intently. The conversation had been the second he'd had with the prince surrounding magic in as many months and the physician was beginning to grow concerned. There had been plenty of incidents within the castle walls involving magic in the past, yet Arthur hadn't questioned any of them – why the sudden interest? When little noise filtered through the door, Gaius decided he would have to keep an eye on the prince. Finally, he began the long walk to his own room.

In his chambers, Arthur waited a few minutes until he eventually heard the soft patter of Gaius' footsteps making their way down the corridor. Once he was sure the physician was gone, he strode towards the bedside table closest to him and opened the top draw. After rummaging around under a few blankets he finally pulled out what he was looking for – the book of spells and enchantments his father had ordered be destroyed the day before.

Arthur wasn't sure why he'd kept the book. He was conflicted, torn between believing the words of his father and the ones of a magical creature which may or may not have been telling the truth. He wanted so desperately to think that the entire thing was a prank, an elaborate story designed to elicit fear within the deepest recesses of his soul. And yet, Arthur found himself replaying the confrontation over in his mind once again. The creature had looked so sure of itself. What if his father was wrong – what if you _could _'just have magic'?

There was something else too, something he had overlooked. The goblin had stated that the prince wasn't the 'only one keeping secrets'. What was that supposed to mean? The only other person he knew of who had gone to see the physician prior to him had been Morgana, but surely the creature hadn't been referring to her? Then again, she had been willing to have another nightmare in place of picking up a second sleeping draught. Was it possible she was currently just as scared as him for similar reasons?

Arthur sighed, opening the spell book to a random page. An assortment of words he identified as Old English lined the paper, though he understood none of it. Regardless, he decided he'd keep the book – for education purposes, naturally. Besides, if he had it, that meant there was no one who could actually use it.

After placing the book back where he had hidden it, Arthur extinguished the remaining candles in the room and tucked himself into bed. He had been far too stressed he realised and a hunting trip was in order. Though he knew Merlin hated the sport, the prince figured his manservant could use the break too after his own ordeal in the dungeons. Given the annual melee was set for later that week, they would have to set off first thing in the morning.

It was the only chance they would have to get away from the castle for a while, and Arthur was willing to forget about things any way he could.

* * *

_A/N: In terms of future chapters, updates will probably be around a week/a week and a half apart from now on as I've now got studies to focus on. I'll try my best to speed things up where I can without risking the integrity of the story._

_Thank you so much for the response to the last chapter, particularly to those who reviewed. It was so great to see such positive feedback – you guys are wonderful! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it. :-)_

_Next up, 'Gwaine'. Thanks for reading!_


	5. The Bar Fight

Arthur was in a good mood.

His father had agreed to the hunting trip with surprising ease, and after dragging a protesting Merlin down to the stables, the two had set off for the forests just outside the lower town. For the first time in weeks Arthur found himself without a worry in the world – the sun was shining, the woods appeared to be bandit-free for once, and not even Merlin's not-so-subtle attempts at scaring away the game were enough to get him riled up.

It was on their way back to the heart of Camelot that the two came across a valley. From the top of a grassy hill, the unmistakable form of a small village could be seen. Smoke rose from a large stone building which Arthur quickly identified as the local tavern.

"You know what you need after a hard day's hunt?" he asked jovially.

Merlin gave his prince a sideways glance. "Sleep."

"A nice, cold tankard of mead," Arthur said, completely ignoring his manservant. He set off towards the village, leaving the exhausted warlock to only sigh in frustration.

"Mead," Merlin muttered before trailing after the blond.

It wasn't until the two were inside the tavern that Merlin began to loosen up. After being on the receiving end of the affections of one of the barmaids, he found himself aiming his usual jabs at Arthur who wasn't the slightest bit amused. The prince returned them with equal vigour, though was secretly relieved to see his manservant back to being his usual annoying self.

Their banter was cut short however when a new face entered the tavern. The room immediately fell silent as a large, burly man stood in the doorway, a hideous scar stretching across his face. He stalked towards the bar, knocking a pile of terracotta plates out of the hands of one of the barmaids on his way. This caught the attention of Arthur who finally looked up from his tankard.

"Afternoon, Mary," the man sneered. "Business looks good."

The woman in question appeared to be the owner of the tavern, the same woman who had commented on Merlin's appearance not two minutes beforehand. She backed away slightly. "We have our better days."

"I don't suppose you'll begrudge me my share, then?" He tossed a small pouch at her expectantly. Mary placed a dozen or so gold coins on the bar table, though it clearly wasn't enough judging by the menacing look he gave her. "And the rest?"

"That's all we got," she mumbled.

The man grabbed the front of Mary's dress, pulling out a knife and waving it dangerously close to her face. "I'll not ask again!"

"Take your hands off her."

The brute whirled around to face Arthur who had made his way towards the bar during the altercation. Mary and his money forgotten, the man attempted to lunge at the prince only to be sent tumbling into a wall. He staggered to his feet and glared at Arthur who looked as nonchalant as ever.

"I'm gonna make you pay for that," he spat.

From across the room, Merlin chuckled as he sipped from his tankard. "I'd like to see you try."

The insult appeared to be the last straw for the thug, who turned towards the door and let out a piercing whistle. At once, another fifteen or so built-looking men entered the tavern and stared down the patrons. Merlin staggered backwards until he was flush up against a pillar.

"You had to open your _big mouth_, didn't you Merlin?" Arthur ground out through clenched teeth.

It was at that moment that a third man entered the picture. Long brown hair bounced off his unshaven face as he clutched his own tankard and made his way towards the prince. "You two have got yourselves in a bit of a pickle, haven't you?"

"You should get out of here while you have the chance," Arthur advised.

"You're probably right," he replied casually, taking a swig of mead.

He turned around and handed his tankard to the brute whose scowl was momentarily replaced by a look of confusion. Before the larger man could even register the fist flying towards his face, he was sent staggering backwards and the entire room descended into chaos.

Arthur wasn't quite sure how it had happened, but he suddenly found himself being grabbed by the waist and thrown to the ground. He stumbled to his feet only to be pushed roughly against a wall. Three well placed punches from his opponent had his head spinning and he vaguely registered being yanked forward before being thrown against another hard surface.

Merlin scrambled to a corner of the room, frantically looking for Arthur within the brawl. He finally spotted his prince being beaten up by the thug with the scar and his eyes widened in alarm.

"Arthur!" he called out desperately.

Held down on a table, the prince managed to fend his opponent off long enough to work out which direction his manservant's cry had come from. He spotted the warlock taking out a particularly stupid looking man, only to see someone aiming a chair straight for his head.

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted. "Behind you!"

The warlock ducked the object just in time and Arthur turned his attention back to his own part of the fight. The prince dealt a blow to his opponent – who he now realised was the moron who had threatened him – though this had little effect on the man who continued to pin him down against the table. Out the corner of his eye, the blond spotted Merlin fleeing the pursuit of the same stupid-looking thug from a minute beforehand and he desperately writhed under the hold. He needed to help his friend.

Arthur felt the anger begin to rise up inside of him, and for a few moments the loud thump of his heartbeat was all he could hear as he was suddenly consumed by a surge of strength.

Unbeknownst to the prince, his eyes began to flicker gold.

He began to push back, much to the surprise of the brute who abruptly loosened his hold on the blond. A blink-and-you-miss-it look of fear overcame the thug's face as he felt his knife begin to move about in his belt.

"Your eyes!" he hissed.

Arthur looked at the man incredulously. "_What?_"

"Your eyes!" he repeated. "You're a—"

Before he could finish the sentence, a smashed pot over the head sent the man crumpling to the ground. Arthur sat up in surprise as his eyes returned to their natural blue, only to see the unshaven man from earlier extend a hand. The prince grasped it and pulled himself to his feet.

"Thanks," he said breathlessly.

"Don't mention it," the man drawled, cracking a wry smile. Their conversation was short lived however as another thug came charging towards the two. Arthur barely managed to dodge the lightning fast fist which knocked the criminal out cold, and the man easily grabbed hold of the victim. "Try not to get yourself pinned down again, huh?"

Arthur watched in both surprise and fascination as the man dragged the limp body towards the bar with ease. He could see Merlin had taken refuge behind the counter and sighed in relief before bracing himself for his next opponent.

At the counter, the man dropped the body to the floor unceremoniously before glancing up at Merlin. "Pass the jug, huh?"

The warlock turned and noted a jug of mead amongst several other bottles of liquor on the bench behind him. He did as he was told, watching in disbelief as the man sculled down the drink while the chaos continued around them. Suddenly, he spotted a thug charging towards them both.

"Watch—!"

Before Merlin could even finish the warning, the man had landed a punch straight to the jaw and the threat was sent tumbling to the ground. He turned to face the boy once more. "What do they call you, then?"

"Merlin," the warlock gasped.

"Gwaine," the man replied, shaking his hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Watch it!" Merlin suddenly shouted as yet another man came barrelling towards them. Without batting an eye, Gwaine smashed the jug of mead into the thug's head and he collapsed into a heap on the ground.

"Such a waste, huh?" Gwaine laughed mischievously. Merlin stared after the commoner incredulously as he dove back into the thick of the fight.

In the centre of the room, Arthur struggled against the scarred thug from earlier in the brawl. The man had regained consciousness after Gwaine's attempt at knocking him out and had quickly managed to single the prince out. Each time Arthur attempted to deal a blow he was easily shoved back, a particularly rough push sending him sprawling backwards onto the ground.

Gwaine watched in horror as the thug pulled out his knife and advanced towards the prince with a malicious grin on his face. Before he could stop himself, he was charging at the larger man and tackling him to the ground with a loud cry. For a moment it seemed as though the attack had been thwarted – that is, until Gwaine felt a searing pain shoot up his left leg.

The last thing he saw before collapsing was the shocked faces of the two boys he'd tried to protect.

* * *

While Merlin tended to Gwaine's wound, Arthur spoke with Mary. According to the barmaid, the thug with the scar who had hunted the prince down during the brawl was a man by the name of Dagr. He was the son of the man she had initially shared ownership of the tavern with. After getting too old to run the place himself, he'd allowed Mary to take over at no cost in exchange for a small sum of gold coins each fortnight to keep him going.

Unfortunately, after the old man's death a few months earlier, Dagr had returned from Mercia only to begin demanding impossible amounts of gold each week. It wasn't long before Mary was being forced to hand over all she earned, Dagr's 'visits' becoming more and more frequent. His appearance that afternoon had been the second in as many days, and she shuddered to think what may have happened had Arthur not stepped in.

Despite the brawl, Mary insisted Dagr was only ever usually accompanied by one other man by the name of Ebor. As she continued, Arthur discovered she was referring to the stupid-looking thug who had had his sights set on Merlin during the chaos. As the warlock finished patching Gwaine up as best as he could, Dagr began to stir at Arthur's feet.

The prince glared down at the man – he was going to pay for what he had done.

* * *

Sir Oswald and Sir Ethan – or rather, Dagr and Ebor respectively – were bound straight for Camelot. After finally being released from the stocks outside the tavern a few days earlier, a furious and humiliated Dagr swore vengeance on Arthur. Along with Ebor, the two had travelled to an outlying village where an elderly sorcerer had conjured two swords. To the eye, they appeared blunt. In reality however, the blades were sharp enough to slice through anything.

In addition to the swords were two crystals, designed to allow the owners to take the form of whosever blood they touched. That had been easily achieved by the duo, having ambushed the camp of the two knights they were currently masquerading as. As the castle came into view over a grassy hill, Ebor spoke up.

"Are you sure he has magic?"

"Of course I'm sure," Dagr shot back. "The little brat's eyes were gold, he tried to stab me with my own knife."

"But magic is banned, by the king no less, surely…" Ebor trailed off as he was met with a piercing glare.

"That is exactly the sort of thing I'd expect," Dagr spat, clenching his fists. "Have his own son learn magic then hunt down anyone else who dares use it."

This seemed to make sense to his partner-in-crime until he suddenly thought of something else. "Why bother with all this when we could just hire someone else to kill him?"

"After what he did to me?" Dagr scowled. "I want the satisfaction of killing the hypocrite myself."

Ebor decided not to question the man any further and the two men rode in silence once more. It wasn't long before they were entering the citadel, Dagr ensuring his crystal was still fastened securely around his neck through his chainmail. The two were promptly met by Arthur who came bounding down the castle steps, Merlin in tow.

"Sir Oswald!" the prince said cheerily. "Didn't think you'd be brave enough to show up!"

"And miss the chance of putting you on your backside?" Dagr replied with feigned enthusiasm. Arthur grasped the knight's arm and made to hug him in greeting but was suddenly overcome by a familiar weak sensation. The prince staggered, Merlin barely managing to break his fall.

"Arthur?" the warlock said worriedly, struggling to heave the blond back to his feet. When the prince continued to teeter, he threw an arm over his shoulders for support. "Are you alright?"

"M'fine," Arthur mumbled. He glanced back up at Sir Oswald who returned the look with a raised eyebrow. He brushed the questioning glance off with a wave of his hand and finally looked over at Ebor expectantly.

"Sir Ethan," the thug provided. Arthur leaned forward to clasp the other man's arm, only for the weak feeling to intensify significantly. He was about to ask Merlin to help him to his room when he suddenly got an idea. He didn't like it, but he had to try.

"This is my servant Merlin," he said breathlessly. "He'll escort you to your chambers."

The warlock's eyes went wide. "_What? _Arthur, you're—"

"_Please_ Merlin," Arthur whispered, turning to face his friend. "For once, just do as I ask."

At the prince's pleading look, Merlin reluctantly nodded in agreement and helped drag Arthur towards Dagr's horse. He slung the blond's arm over its back for support then finally glanced back up at the two knights. "Follow me."

Arthur watched intently as the new arrivals trotted up the steps behind his scrawny manservant, sighing in relief as the heavy weight began to lift – just as he had thought. It continued to fade the further they got, disappearing completely once they were inside the castle. The relief was short lived however as the implications of the episode suddenly occurred to him – the goblin's words came back to haunt him once more and he was quickly overrun by a feeling of dread.

He hadn't experienced the heavy feeling since the Battle of Camelot, something he had brushed off as nothing but the side effects of being thrown against the wall by the sorcerer on the battlements. Now that he thought about it however, he never _did_ see the tell-tale flash of gold in the eyes of the enemy soldier. There was no spell muttered, no hand raised, and the weight that seemed to consume him hadn't disappeared until the skeletons had been destroyed. Sorcerer or not, the soldier was long dead. The effects of any spell he cast should have died with him, and yet what Arthur had just experienced couldn't have been more real.

While he was at least relieved to know the source of his discomfort, the question was _why_. A feeling like that could hardly mean good news, yet Sir Oswald was one of the kindest knights he knew. While he hadn't met Sir Ethan before, the very fact that he was with the older knight told him he too had a noble heart. Or at least, so he thought. Arthur finally decided to keep an eye on the pair before making his way up the castle steps himself.

He should have known the worry-free days were too good to last.

* * *

_A/N: Arthur's physical magic has finally made an appearance – woo hoo! I'm super excited for the next few chapters as there's plenty of magic, Gwaine and his fluffy hair to come. :-)_

_A huge thank you to all those who reviewed/followed/favourited the last chapter. I hope you enjoyed this one!_


	6. The Crystal

_A/N: I know, it's been forever. Uni started and I came down with a massive case of writer's block and I was honestly considering discontinuing this story but there's been a few reviews and a lot of follows lately so I thought I might have another go at it. So. Hello again! Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait. :-)_

* * *

Up in his chambers a half hour later, Arthur paced between his bed and the wardrobe. He'd been doing a lot of pacing lately, he realised, a fact which did nothing to make him feel any better given the pacing was due to certain things continuing to happen which _weren't supposed to happen_. Not to law abiding citizens and certainly not to him. He was the _prince_ after all. The worrying was beginning to give him a headache, so much so that he almost welcomed the interruption he knew was coming.

Almost.

He didn't need to guess whose footsteps he could hear urgently making their way down the hallway outside his room, and the last thing he wanted to do that afternoon was explain to his mother hen of a manservant the impossible reasons surrounding his collapse on the castle steps. Arthur hurriedly took a seat at his desk, grabbed a pile of reports he'd been putting off since before the hunting trip and placed them in front of him. Moments later the doors to his chambers burst open.

"_What_ happened out there?"

Arthur rolled his eyes as Merlin breathlessly made his way towards him. _Oh I don't know Merlin, just the latest in a string of events I can't seem to explain. _

"Nothing."

"You call that _nothing_?" the warlock exclaimed. "Arthur, you couldn't even stand up!"

"So my lunch didn't go down well," the prince shrugged, placing a page to the side. "Big deal."

Now Merlin was the one to roll his eyes. "I haven't _brought_ you your lunch yet."

Arthur finally glanced up at his manservant, partially due to the fact that pretending to be interested in his reports was only increasing the throbbing in his head, but mostly because Merlin was leaning in so close that he was half an inch away from becoming the desk itself. "Then what are you standing around here for? Honestly Merlin, is there anything you're actually capable of doing?"

"Don't try to change the subject on m—"

"_Mer_lin," Arthur groaned. He rose from his chair, walked around the other side of his desk and yanked his friend's arm in the direction of the door. "Quit acting like such a girl's petticoat, will you? I'm _fine_.

"It's my job to protect you!" Merlin insisted.

Arthur let out a bark of laughter as they reached the door. "It is your _job _to do as I say." He pushed the warlock over the threshold. "Lunch. Now."

"But I—"

Before Merlin could get another word in, the door was shut in his face.

* * *

The job of keeping an eye on Sirs Oswald and Ethan, Arthur realised, became a lot more difficult when he felt like turning into a blob of goo each time he came anywhere near the pair. Matters weren't helped by the fact that he couldn't seem to get away from Merlin. Over the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening, the warlock had hovered around Arthur as though he were a fragile piece of china.

The prince had gotten so fed up with Merlin's more-than-obvious coddling that he'd assigned his serving duties to the two knights instead. Arthur had to admit he'd felt a pang of guilt at how hurt his friend had looked, but reminded himself the switch wasn't purely to save his own sanity. Merlin may be a bit of an idiot but he could be observant when he wanted to be. If Sir Oswald and Sir Ethan were acting out of sorts, he was sure to notice it.

With a man on the inside, Arthur was able to focus on keeping up appearances. Despite there having been fewer people than usual roaming the citadel that afternoon, it seemed news of his sudden bout of 'nausea' had already made its way into the upper town. With the melee only a few days away he couldn't afford to have his people doubting his abilities, and it was with that thought in mind that he took to avoiding Sirs Oswald and Ethan completely.

For once, things seemed to be going his way.

* * *

Arthur stood at the far end of the training field the next afternoon, aiming calculated blows at one of the many dummy knights wedged in the grass. Merlin sat to the side, having been dragged along after finally finishing polishing boots with Gwaine – _four dozen pickled eggs?!_ – and was in the middle of moping when he noticed two very unwelcome figures heading towards them.

_Oh God, please no, _he thought. _The Prat just had me shine an entire army of boots with another half-prat who quite literally drank the tavern dry last night and I really don't feel like dragging your belongings around your chambers again while you sit there eating fancy fruit and—_

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief when he realised it wasn't him they were interested in, but Arthur who continued to jab at the dummy – which made perfect sense when he thought about it given that the two men were in full armour.

Unfortunately for Arthur, his back was turned, and it wasn't until the weak feeling suddenly began to creep up on him from behind that he realised he had company. The prince desperately tried to remain steady on his feet and continued to spar in the hopes that the two knights were simply passing by.

"You look like you need a bit of practice."

_Damn._

Arthur turned around at the sound of Sir Oswald's voice, praying it wasn't obvious he was leaning against the dummy for support. "You think so?"

"I know so," Oswald said smugly.

The prince inwardly cursed as he noticed a group of his knights begin to drift towards the training field. Backing out of a fight now would be seen as nothing short of cowardly, particularly given it was, well, _training_. Reluctantly, Arthur nodded in agreement and Oswald motioned for a sword from Merlin.

The prince braced himself, willing his protesting limbs to cooperate. While the weak feeling wasn't as intense as it had been when he'd fought the skeleton army, it was still strong, and Arthur struggled to hold his sword upright. Suddenly, Oswald swung low.

Arthur gasped in surprise, blocking the attack and raising his sword high in the air in readiness for an overhead blow. Oswald easily stopped the motion, shoving the prince back several steps before going on the offensive once more. Arthur's arms burned with each hit and his chest felt more and more constricted the further Oswald pushed him back, the knight suddenly swinging his sword forward in a sweeping motion. Arthur only just managed to avoid the weapon, staggering several steps in the process.

From the sidelines, Merlin watched in horror as Arthur struggled to block each blow from Oswald's sword. The prince may not have been willing to share what exactly had happened to him the day before, but even a fool could see that Arthur wasn't feeling quite right.

The warlock glanced around worriedly at the growing crowd – it seemed many who had been at the daily markets had wondered towards the training field during the commotion. It wasn't unusual for commoners to watch their prince triumph during practice, though by the way Arthur was struggling to hide his wheezing a victory looked highly unlikely. Despite the blond's clearly dwindling condition Sir Oswald refused to relent in his attack. Arthur needed help. Merlin quickly glanced left and right, and when he was certain no one was watching he focused his eyes on his prince.

"_Cræftgian hine_," he whispered.

Back in the midst of the fight, Arthur let out a small yelp of surprise as his sword almost went flying out of his hand – it seemed his strength had suddenly returned in full force and the effort previously required to merely lift his arm was now enough to send his weapon flying across the other side of the training ground. Just as it should.

Arthur wasn't sure why the weak feeling had suddenly disappeared but he didn't care. He immediately began to fight back against a noticeably shocked Sir Oswald who was now struggling to block the prince's attack.

"You're rusty, you're not as quick as you used to be!" the blond quipped.

Oswald scowled. "Still quick enough to hit you!"

As if to disprove his point, the knight took a swing at Arthur who easily dodged the blow. The prince smirked and turned to face his opponent once more when he noticed something strange. He had been so preoccupied with keeping up appearances that he'd failed to register what was right in front of him.

"I thought you were uh, left handed?" he asked quizzically.

"Yes I am, I just…" Oswald paused before grasping the sword in his left hand "…wanted to give you a chance." Before Arthur could question the man, he was forced to dodge an overhead blow. "Why don't we make this more interesting?" Oswald continued. "Fifty gold coins, first clean hit."

The prince shrugged nonchalantly. "Make it a hundred."

Oswald swung wildly, doing little more than forcing the blond backwards. Before he could register what happened, Arthur had grabbed the knight by the scruff of the neck and tapped the breast plate with his sword.

"You can keep your money," Arthur smirked. Leaving a disgruntled Oswald to return to Sir Ethan's side, the prince re-joined the rest of his knights who were eager to congratulate him on his victory.

As he placed Arthur's sword back in the weapon rack, Merlin couldn't help but notice Oswald and Ethan scowl at his prince mid conversation. Before he could attempt to eavesdrop however, their chat appeared to end. Oswald spat in Arthur's direction before stalking away from the training grounds with Ethan in tow.

Merlin frowned. Defeat or not, the very essence of being a knight revolved around honour and humility no matter the outcome of a duel. And while the Knights of Camelot may be under the leadership of the biggest prat in existence, he knew Arthur was noble at heart. Merlin walked towards his prince, whose knights had finally dispersed.

"Does anything about those two seem strange to you?" he asked, tilting his head in the direction of Oswald and Ethan.

Arthur's eyes went wide. "You can feel it too?"

"Err… yes?" Merlin said slowly, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, they're acting strange, if that's what you mean."

"Oh." The blond's expression faltered. "Yes, well, I'd noticed that too."

Merlin frowned. "Are you alright, Arthur?"

"Perfectly," the prince replied, almost a little too fast. He ignored the persistent frown on his manservant's face and continued, "Though you're right about Oswald and Ethan." He glanced at the two knights, who had almost made it around the corner leading to the citadel. "My father and I are due to have lunch in a half hour. I'll invite them to join us – that should give you enough time to look around their chambers and see if anything's amiss."

"_Me?_" Merlin exclaimed.

"Yes you, _Mer_lin," Arthur sighed. "You're forgetting you have every right to be in there. Even if they do come back before you're done, just say you're cleaning or whatever it is you do all day when you're not busy avoiding me at the tavern."

Before the warlock could get another word in, Arthur turned and began his trek back to the castle.

"Honestly," Merlin muttered, "how long is it going to take him to realise that I'm _never there?_"

* * *

An hour and a half later, the two boys found themselves in Gaius' room alongside Gwaine and the physician himself. Merlin sat across from Gaius with his hand outstretched, watching as the old man tightly wrapped his index finger in some cloth. Gwaine looked on with concern, and while Arthur would never admit it, he was glad his friend wasn't more seriously hurt.

The warlock's search of Sir Oswald's chambers had been fruitful, having discovered the knights' swords for the melee. He'd explained that to the eye the weapons appeared blunt, though in reality they were incredibly sharp. Unfortunately, he'd learned that the hard way.

"You were lucky," Gwaine frowned. "I've seen those blades in action. They're forged using sorcery."

At the mention of magic, Arthur's heart began to beat faster.

"What would they want with such a blade?" Gaius asked, interrupting his wave of panic.

Merlin, it seemed, had already thought about this. He glanced up at his prince, worry etched on his face. "I think they mean to kill you in the melee."

"But in front of all those people?" Gaius exclaimed.

"It's the perfect cover," Gwaine said, sounding almost amused. "If they succeed, nobody will suspect it was intentional."

"Wait a minute," Arthur said, holding out his hand. He looked hurt. "This is Sir Oswald we're talking about. I've known the man for years, fought alongside him on numerous occasions. You know him, Gaius." He searched the physician's eyes desperately. "He's one of the kindest knights in the realm. Perhaps someone gave him the blades and he isn't aware of their true nature. Why would he…?"

Gaius sighed as the prince trailed off. "I'm sorry, sire. I wish I could tell you otherwise, but all evidence suggests that Sir Oswald intends to do you harm. And what of Sir Ethan? Up until yesterday you'd never met the man before. Perhaps he is partially responsible for Oswald's sudden change in behaviour?"

"Then he shall pay dearly," Arthur ground out, his hurt expression suddenly replaced by a look of determination. No matter what excuses he tried to make for Oswald, he knew it was useless – the weakness he felt whenever he was around the knight told him that something wasn't right.

The pain in his hand forgotten, Merlin jumped to his feet. "We have to tell the king."

"Merlin, Sir Oswald is a knight," Gaius said grimly. "He comes from a well-respected family, you can't accuse him without proof."

"But we have Arthur," the warlock countered.

The prince shook his head. "Gaius is right. I can accuse him all I want but my father will have none of it without proof. Remember what happened with the knight Valiant?"

"Valiant?" Gwaine arched an eyebrow.

"Long story," Merlin sighed. "A few years ago there was a tournament in which one of the entrants was using an enchanted shield to win against his opponents. We tried to tell the king only to have our evidence – a witness – wind up dead before he could testify. Uther accused Arthur of being a coward, some other stuff happened…" He glanced at Arthur who rolled his eyes. "Anyway, the point is he won't listen unless we have proof."

"Then we need that blade," Gwaine declared. "I'll get it."

Merlin shook his head. "What if they catch you? What reason would you have to be in Sir Oswald's chamber? No, it's safer if I do it."

"You seem to be forgetting that I'm the prince," Arthur said, looking pointedly at Merlin. "Even if I'm caught there's little he can do about it. You've already risked your life for me once, Gwaine," he nodded at the commoner then turned back to Merlin, "and you're an awful liar. As terrible as you are, manservants are hard to come by."

The warlock couldn't help but laugh before nodding in agreement. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're right. You shouldn't have any trouble getting through the castle at least... you have no _idea _how bad the guards are at their job."

* * *

Arthur waited until he was sure the castle's occupants were asleep before slipping out into the halls. Getting out of his chambers was the easy part – he'd already notified the guards outside his door that night that their services weren't needed. Getting through the halls and into Sir Oswald's chambers however was… also surprisingly easy.

For one thing, he needed to have a word with the Head Guard about how little the men under his command seem to know about guarding things. For another, the fact that Merlin knew this already was mildly disturbing.

Luckily for the Head Guard and his idiot of a manservant he had more pressing matters on his hands. Like figuring out where in Sir Oswald's chambers the offending swords were hidden. From the door, Arthur could see the knight was fast asleep across the other side of the room – that's when he spotted a large chest sitting on the floor beside the bed.

The prince slowly made his way towards it, inwardly cursing as he felt the weak sensation begin to consume him once more. Whatever had stopped it from occurring on the training grounds that afternoon was clearly gone, but he pressed on anyway. Falling to his knees beside the chest, he heaved the lid open, breathing a sigh of relief as he spotted both swords inside. He was about to reach for one of the weapons when Sir Oswald suddenly stirred.

Arthur froze.

He held his breath as the knight rolled onto his back – that's when he saw it, or rather, felt it. Sitting atop Oswald's chest strung to a chain around his neck was a large crystal. Arthur gasped as the weak feeling seemed to intensify even more, though he realised there was something else there. It was as though he could _hear _the gem. The prince forced himself to look at the crystal once more.

It began to glow.

Arthur's eyes widened in shock. He knew he needed to get the sword, to get out of Oswald's chambers, to report the accusations to his father. But it was as though buried beneath the feeling which seemed to weigh him down was something else, another sensation. Untapped strength, almost.

The prince closed the lid to the chest and turned his full attention to the crystal. He'd had enough of avoiding the problem. In that moment, he decided to do something he'd never tried to do in all the times he'd felt the weak sensation since that moment up on the battlements during the Battle of Camelot. He decided to fight it.

Arthur closed his eyes and searched deep within himself – past the feeling of weakness and hopelessness and the weight which seemed to consume him. He ignored all the thoughts he'd had ever since things didn't seem to be quite right, the ones which made him pace during the day and kept him awake at night. Instead, he searched for a sensation he'd felt once before. One he'd felt in a moment of anger and desperation in the middle of a bar fight when he'd thought his friend was in trouble. And suddenly, his heartbeat was all he could hear.

The prince didn't realise it, but his eyes began to glow a brilliant gold.

Arthur let out a quiet laugh of triumph as the weak sensation seemed to lift instantly, and he savoured his renewed ability to rise to his feet effortlessly. He glanced back at the crystal atop Oswald's chest – it was as though he could hear it, feel it, he was sure. The sound of raw power seemed to reverberate in his mind, as though the gem were _angry_. Arthur knew he should leave the room with the swords while he had the strength to do so, but part of him, the curious side, wanted to take a closer look. He wanted to know _why_. Why a knight he once fought alongside with had an object of sorcery on his person, why he felt so uneasy around someone who was supposed to be his friend.

Tentatively, Arthur made his way towards the bed, and when he was certain Oswald was still fast asleep, he picked up the crystal. The gem suddenly dimmed, and Arthur gasped as the image of an all too familiar face appeared before him – Dagr, the thug from the tavern a few days earlier. Even in a state of rest the brute looked as though he were bloodthirsty, and Arthur had to stop himself from reeling back in shock. Suddenly, the crystal showed that Dagr's eyes were open.

It happened before Arthur could even register what happened – the sudden awakening of 'Oswald', the grabbing of his wrist and the breaking of his concentration which saw his eyes return to their natural blue colour. The weak feeling instantly consumed him once more, and Arthur let out a soft whimper as an intense pain shot up his right arm.

It seemed to take a moment for the thug to realise who the intruder was before a malicious grin spread across his face.

"Oh, I'm going to enjoy this," Dagr said wickedly.

* * *

_Spells:_

_Merlin: Strengthen him (translated with oldenglishtranslator . co . uk, though chances are it's inaccurate)_

_In terms of future updates, I can't promise a quick continuation of this story particularly as I have quite a few assignments due over the next few weeks. I'll try my best, though!_

_As always, reviews are life. :-)_


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